


Series Three Pieces

by elephantfootprints



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephantfootprints/pseuds/elephantfootprints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I thought I would move my little season 3 ficlets into one place. Do not read if you don't want anything spoiled for season 3!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John's New Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary buys John a new shirt. He's not so keen on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Prompted by the cute exchange in "The Empty Hearse")

John was putting clothes away in the bedroom one evening when Mary bust into the room, flapping a white t-shirt around, grinning manically.

“Look what came today!” she said, holding up the shirt to display the front where the words ‘I Don’t Shave For Sherlock Holmes’ were printed, along with a drawing of a moustache.

“Where did you get that?” John asked, horrified.

“I had it made,” Mary said. “There are website where you can make your own shirts dirt cheap.”

“Why?” John said, taking a step back as though to distance himself from the offending object.

“Because I’m hilarious. Go on, put it on!” Mary said, thrusting it at him.

John gave her a look of utter disbelief. Mary laughed, moving in close to John, tucking the shirt under her arm and starting to unbutton John’s shirt. She looked up at him through her lashes, giving him a flirty smile. John tried to keep his face disapproving, but couldn’t help the smile that quirked up the corner of his mouth.

“You’re completely insane, you know that, right?” John asked, cupping Mary’s face and kissing her. 

“So you’ll wear it?” Mary asked, pushing John’s shirt off.

John groaned. “Just tonight, only tonight, for a sleep shirt. And then tomorrow we throw it out. No, we destroy it, that shirt will only ever be seen by us.”

 

“And the people who made it,” Mary added, grinning at the glare John gave her.

“Thin ice, Mary,” John said. Mary pulled him into another kiss and it was not until later that evening that John needed clothes again, and by then he was sleepy, sated and complacent enough to be coaxed into wearing the shirt instead of his normal pyjama shirt.

 

John was never quite certain if it was Mary amusing herself or sheer coincidence, but that night was of course the night that Sherlock broke into their house, tearing into the bedroom, babbling excitedly, startling Mary and John awake.

“...which means that of course the horse wasn’t-” Sherlock broke off midstream, staring at John.

“Sherlock!” John said, appalled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t just burst into our bedroom in the middle of the night! We might have been... You don’t burst into people’s bedrooms in the middle of the night.

Sherlock continued to stare at John until a poorly smothered giggle from Mary brought him out of his stunned silence. His lips twisted into a smirk.

“Somehow I don’t think it’s common knowledge that you don’t enter people’s bedrooms in the middle of the night because they might be _wearing a shirt that insists they don’t shave for you_ ,” Sherlock said. 

John stuttered slightly, and Mary stopped hiding her laughter, Sherlock’s eyes gleaming with amusement. 

“I can explain,” John said, helplessly.

“There’s no need, John,” Sherlock said, winking at Mary. “I think that shirt says it all.”


	2. Save a Dance For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So how are we going to do this?” John asked, holding Mary close and giving up on the thought that he could keep up a decent rhythm and have a serious conversation at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Written after "The Sign of the Three")

“So how are we going to do this?” John asked, holding Mary close and giving up on the thought that he could keep up a decent rhythm and have a serious conversation at the same time.

“Be parents?” Mary asked. They swayed and shuffled through a crowd filled with loved ones, a shocking addition growing inside her, the memory of their vows fresh, Sherlock’s beautiful song lingering in her mind and Mary couldn’t stop grinning, overwhelmed that this was her life. She had not dared hope such good things could come to her.

“Oh, no, I meant dancing with Sherlock,” John said. He swallowed hard as a rush of excitement, disbelief, and terror went through him at the thought of fatherhood. “I figured you’d take care of all of that parenting business while I galavant around with Sherlock and have a string of affairs with much younger women.”

“Bastard,” Mary said.

She gave his waist a sharp pinch. “I think send you off to dance with him first, get the worst out of the way first, you know?”

“Oi!” John said, his indignation undercut by the kiss he couldn’t resist placing under her ear.

“You just stood on your pregnant wife’s foot, you’ve no defence,” Mary reminded him primly. And then they were grinning foolishly at one another.

“Pregnant wife,” John repeated in awe. They song was more than half-over before they shook themselves out of their delighted reverie.

“While you’re doing that, I’ll find Mrs Hudson, and chase off any of her suitors, so she’s free to dance with him after me,” Mary said. “And the rest will be easy, I’ll distract Tom so Molly’s free, you free up Greg, and by then if he’s any good, he’ll have a line of people wanting to dance with him, and if he’s as bad as you, I’ll coax my bridesmaids into taking turns with him after we leave."

John looked at Mary admiringly. “I love you, you know that?”

“I did wonder why you married me,” Mary said. “I was beginning to suspect it was for my money.”

“Well, that too,” John said, kissing her and moving back into attempting the steps Sherlock had taught him.

When the song ended, they broke apart and looked around, expecting to spot Sherlock easily, conspiring with Janine, telling horribly inappropriate facts to Archie, or revealing Uncle Edward’s infidelity. They spilt up and wove through the crowd. On a whim, Mary walked up to the stage where Sherlock had been playing. There was no sign of his violin and Mary frowned. On the music stand, she found an envelope in Sherlock’s handwriting, addressed to “Dr and Mrs Watson”. The sight of their names written together made her smile.

“I can’t find him,” John said, joining Mary on the stage, where she was running a hand over the envelope, not wanting to open it. “He’s found another murder to solve, hasn’t he? One was fun, by two really is pushing it, don’t you think?”

“John,” Mary said softly. John looked at the envelope she was caressing.

“What is it?” John asked. Mary opened, pulling out sheets of music. 

“ _Waltz, for Mary and John_ ,” Mary read out. “ _By Sherlock Holmes_.”

John smiled and instinctively reached out to touch it, tracing the notes and thinking about his first dance with Mary. 

“I think he’s gone, love,” Mary said softly. “His violin’s not here. He did say weddings weren’t his thing.”

“Well that was clearly a lie,” John said, sticking his chin out stubbornly. “He knew far more about this wedding than I ever will, and he wouldn’t leave before having a dance with you.”

Mary tucked her arm into John’s and leaned into his side. They watched their guests dance, but Sherlock didn't reappear, and soon they would force themselves back out there, allow themselves to enjoy their wedding, but for now they let themselves have a moment of sadness and regret because their friend, who worked so hard to make their wedding joyous, felt he couldn't stay and be happy with them, and celebrate his place in their lives.


	3. Stag Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are drunk and their faces are very close but what about Mary?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written after seeing some discussion on how the stag night in The Sign of the Three could have gone if the nurse hadn't shown. This is my attempt at answering the question, "How could anything happen between them without John cheating?"

“Sherlock,” John slurred, leaning further into Sherlock’s personal space than he intended. Sherlock grinned at him. “I’m starting to suspicious- I’m begginging to- I’m- that you fancy me.”

Sherlock froze, even in his terribly fuzzy state, he knew this was not something John was meant to know. Although he couldn’t quite remember why.

“Mary!” John said, his spine stiffening, which somehow brought him closer still to Sherlock.

Oh, that’s right, Sherlock remembered now. Because of Mary. Because John was marrying Mary and apparently that meant Sherlock couldn’t kiss John, even though his face was very close right at that moment and it would be very easy to just lean in and-

John turned his head, concentrating hard on the pocket of his trousers. “Mary,” John said, by way of explanation, pulling out his mobile. He frowned at it for a long time before saying, “On, please!”

Sherlock giggled, and reached out to clumsily push a button, lighting up the screen. John looked at him, bright-eyed and amazed. Why couldn’t Sherlock kiss him, again?

John fumbled with the phone and then held it up to his ear. “Shh,” he said, putting a finger on his lips. “’s ringing.”

Sherlock nodded and briefly touched his own mouth to show he understood.

“Hello Mary!” John said. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Mary, Mary, Mary. We’re getting married. Mary-ed. I’m marrying Mary and you’re Mary-ing marry.”

Sherlock thought about that for a second before collapsing into laughter, and John put his fingers over Sherlock’s lips, looking delighted with himself and hissing a giggly “shh.”

“Mary,” John said into the phone. “Yes, ‘s good. No, no, we’re fine, I just wanted to ring you because I want to shag Sherlock and I thought I should check with you first, because of the getting married.”

There was a silence while John listened intently to the phone, making understanding hums and saying “yeah” a few times and Sherlock felt his heart rise in his throat, which worried him as he was pretty sure hearts were more firmly tethered than that, but it wasn’t going to go anywhere because John’s fingers were still lingering on Sherlock’s lips and he would catch it if it tried to escapre.

“Love you too!” John said, smiling soppily. He tossed the phone aside and moved his hands to settle on Sherlock’s shoulders.

He was grinning at Sherlock, and that seemed like a good thing. He was so close that Sherlock could see his eyes grow dark, and that was good too, because that mean something significant, Sherlock was sure of it. That he could see better in the dark. No, that he was aroused.

“Can you see better when you’re aroused?” Sherlock said, stumbling only slightly over the complication that was the word ‘aroused’.

Apparently Sherlock was never going to get an answer to this as suddenly their mouths were moving together and that was nice. Even better than knowing if John could see better in the dark when he was aroused, and Sherlock was really quite curious about that, so it must have been a very good kiss. Except then it was over, which seemed terrible, because Sherlock wasn’t sure it was ever going to happen again

“What about Mary-ing marry?” Sherlock said. He frowned. That didn’t sound right. “What did Mary say?” he asked instead.

“She said ‘s fine, and she wasn’t-” John paused thoughtfully. “Surprised. She said… something. And then something else. She’s very pretty, isn’t she, Mary? On the phone, I mean. And in real life.”

John stared absently over Sherlock’s shoulder, smiling fondly, eyes half-shut.

“John?” Sherlock said, when John’s head started to drop and John’s head jerked up and he turned back to Sherlock.

“Right, then she said this bit a few times, so it must have been important,” John said. He looked at Sherlock seriously. “She said we can’t shag tonight if we aren’t sure we’re going to want to shag in the morning.”

“Oh,” Sherlock said sadly. He dropped his head onto John’s shoulder and whispered confidingly, “I think I’m going to be hung-over in the morning, so I probably won’t want to shag.”

“Oh,” John said. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and squeezed him tightly. 

“I’m sorry, John,” Sherlock said, starting to sound morose. John let Sherlock go in favour of dropping to the floor and searching for his mobile. He picked it up and concentrated hard, finding the right buttons to call back Mary.

“Mary,” John said urgently into the phone. “Sherlock said he might be too hung-over for sex in the morning.”

John had to pull the phone away from his ear as a loud laughter came pouring out, replacing the phone when it quietened. He concentrated hard on what Mary was saying, his face slowly brightening.

“She said we don’t have to shag when we’re hungover,” John whispered loudly, his hand clumsily covering the phone. Sherlock was glad of this, but wasn’t sure whether non-hung-over shags were allowed or not. Sex was terribly complicated.

“Hello?” John said into the phone. He pulled it away and looked at it, before shrugging and saying, “She must have hung up.”

“Oh,” Sherlock said, not really sure what else he could say, and not knowing if kissing was still allowed as a response instead of words, which were starting to feel much more difficult and less pleasant than kissing.

“But she did say that we only had to want to keep shagging each other _generally_ ,” John said carefully, looking pleased with himself when all the syllables came out right. “Otherwise shagging tonight would be a spect- really bad idea.”

“Oh. Oh, ohh,” Sherlock said, slowing realising what all this meant. He beamed at John and wrapped his hand around the back of John’s neck, before pulling him in for another kiss.


	4. Baby Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's determined baby girl Watson will be named after him, but John's not so keen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started writing another thing about the baby and then this came out of nowhere.

It had been a joke. A way of breaking the tension during one of the worst moments of their lives. A chance for them to finish things with a laugh, the only proper way John and Sherlock could ever say goodbye. To ensure their last memories of one another were of smiles. That was all. But Sherlock wouldn’t let it go.

*

“Wilhelmina is a strong name for a girl,” Sherlock said, looking up from the arm he was studying. Lestrade rolled his eyes, but John seemed unphased.

“No, Sherlock,” John said. “And that’s definitely not gangrene.”

*

“Scotia is apparently an increasingly popular girl’s name,” Sherlock whispered.

“No it isn’t,” John said. He took a deep breath and fired. “Now would be a good time to run.”

 

*

“Do you think John would being able to look past the phallic connotations and consider the name Willie for the baby?” Sherlock asked, digging his thumb more firmly into Mary’s foot.

Mary laughed. 

*

“There was some American author who named his daughter Scottie,” Sherlock said. “You fancy yourself a writer, so surely Scottie would be an excellent name for your child.”

“What?” John said. Sherlock shrugged and took advantage of John’s confused state to put three more fingers in his crisper.

*

“Wilma-” Sherlock began.

“No,” Mary said, not bothering to open her eyes. “And stop trying to get me to agree to things while I’m asleep.”

*

“I feel you are being very old-fashioned and far too invested in traditional gender roles,” Sherlock said, rolling over on the sofa to watch John help Mary take off her coat before removing his own. “Besides which, the name Sherlock is unusual enough that it’s unlikely your daughter would receive stigma for any perceptions of masculinity.”

“For the last time, Sherlock, we are not naming the baby after you,” John snapped. He sat heavily in his chair and Sherlock shifted so there was room for Mary to sit next to him.

“I suggested we use it as a middle name,” Mary said. “Elizabeth Sherlock Watson.”

John glared at Mary. Sherlock beamed at Mary.

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “That-”

“We’re not naming the baby after you,” John said. Sherlock frowned at John.

“Mary doesn’t seem to have a problem with it,” Sherlock said loftily. “In fact no one I have spoken to has thought it was a terrible idea. Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, all in agreement that including my name in your child’s name would be a lovely gesture, and quite appropriate giving our 

John looked out the window. “We’re not naming the baby after you,” he said firmly. “Because the baby is not replacing you.”

Sherlock froze. Mary’s hand slid into his, squeezing firmly, but Sherlock didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh,” Sherlock said. John continued to look out into the darkened street. “You know, my mother has a nice name.”

Mary swallowed hard on an amused giggle, but John laughed freely, and Sherlock joined quickly, feeling something ease inside him, something that had been growing since he had walked back in to John’s life only to find he wasn’t the only part John cared about any more. John looked at him, and Sherlock grinned, giving him a wink and John beamed back and 221b felt like home again at last.


End file.
